


Mizuki And Aoba Are Bros

by LyricalTea (OnlyHitsuzen)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Other, Recovery, possible platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyHitsuzen/pseuds/LyricalTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba isn't sure what to make of the rumors going on about he and Mizuki; mainly because he doesn't know that they are! But they aren't the only things the rumor mill has to talk about, and Aoba will find that he may have more to worry about than rumors about his personal life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Story Doesn't Stop Just Because You Close the Book

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a small attempt to write my Brotp as a Brotp- and developed into a more annoyingly intricate story. I'm hoping that posting it here will help keep me motivated to finish it. I apologize if it seems to start too slowly; I'm still learning.

          It’s been weeks since Toue fell thanks mostly to Sei; it’s a very bittersweet thought. The brother that he knew of for such a short time, and got to talk to for an even shorter amount of time. It bothers Aoba most of all that he wasn’t even able to give his brothers body a proper burial. It was never found.

          But in time, since the collapse, the people of Midorijima have been reclaiming the lands and shops Toue forced or bought from them- some even going so far as to set up in the ruined, yet rebuilding, Platinum Jail. Of course, there are those who think that with the reveal of Platinum Jails activities, the entire area should be renovated and given back to the Islanders. Others see it as opportunity and say they should use the still standing parts of it; that the ‘tourist’ value is too great to give up and it would surely boost the economy.  All someone would have to do to point out the proof of that statement is look around.

          Aoba can’t really find it in himself to think of Platinum Jail as something other than a dark and dangerous place, tormenting his thoughts and dreams.

          So he doesn’t.

          He and Ren settle their insecurities. The time they spent getting to know each other _again_ only helped. Desire, or Sly, as Aoba is learning is the name he went by all those years ago, is the most extreme of them. When Aoba isn’t ignoring him, they…okay, they don’t always get along. But Desire is willing to calm his more violent tendencies as long as he has Aobas acknowledgement. They, or he, or. Most days he isn’t sure how to refer to Desire, who is him but also not, and things, just, get way too complicated from there.  Desire has been graciously, if you ask him, and insolently, _if you ask Aoba,_ been working to retrieve the memories that were locked away years ago.

          Desire still threatens to take over if he feels like Aoba is too much of a baby to handle a situation. Turns out Desire is very critical of how Aobas been handling himself these past two years.

They’ve agreed that it’s better to not announce the fact that Ren was once a part of Aoba.  They both know that the Allmates, given some time to get over their confusion, will treat Ren like normal; it’s their human counterparts that concern them. They all know about Desire and are appropriately wary of Aoba if he’s acting out of character, but he thinks they won’t be able to just accept the rest of the story. Even Aoba spends some nights confused, and it actually _happened_ to him.

          (Aoba thinks most of Ren’s concern is actually how Kou, his favorite Beni-Shigure member, will react, and wonders if they need to have a talk. _Another_ talk, that is).

          He spends his time at Heibon, gaining control over Scrap now that he’s accepted Desire, and catching up with Koujaku. Occasionally, he’ll catch a glimpse of Mink speeding down the road on his bike, or Clear will stop by his room (I.e. lying in wait for Aoba to come home, which has terrified him more times than he’ll admit) and just yatter on to Aoba about what he’s seen since the collapse of Toue. Aoba can’t help but find his exuberant voice and childish chatter amusing and heart lifting (even if it’s because he’s fooled himself into thinking he’s amazed someone that naive has survived so long.)

          If it’s a really exciting day, both Clear _and_ _Noiz_ will be in his room, either telling fantastic lies or encouraging the other to try more things. It’s not surprising to Aoba anymore to find Noiz loitering in a place he’ll think Aoba will be; the brats been craving a Rhyme battle ever since he got wind of the fact that Aobas memories have been slowly returning. All that seemed to mean to _Noiz_ was that Aoba would soon be a legit Rhymer again.

          (Aoba doesn’t have the heart to tell the Bunny-boy that even when he didn’t remember that he used to play, he was never an easy target.)

          Despite the fact that Aoba is pretty sure Noiz thinks Clear is a bit ‘not all there’, they get along like siblings. Better than, say, Noiz and Koujaku, or Koujaku and Mink, depending on the time of day.

          It exasperates him beyond belief, most days. When they were alone, or with Tae, Koujaku was friendly and even tempered. With any of the others though… _Actually_ , Aoba thought in amusement, _Koujaku is only ‘friendly’ to Clear, me, and Mizuki._

It’s not even that Koujaku is rude to them. The man acts neutral when Mink is nearby, and usually refrains from giving in to Noiz’s baiting.

          _Usually_. Noiz and Koujaku have had spectacular almost-fights that leave both their teams eyeing one another aggressively on the street. Aoba is just glad he’s never _seen_ Dry Juice in any of their stupid fights. Especially since he can rarely tell what the fights are about!

 _Mizuki is my new favorite,_ he decides. _Since he’s the only normal one._

It’s thoughts of Mizuki, though, that have him feeling like he’s in a blender of emotion, tossed around from _regret_ to _shame_ and then _relief_.

 The Dry Juice leader was awake, had been in both physical and mental therapy for weeks and was finally cleared for release. Aoba had visited him in the hospital quite a few times after their heart to heart; sharing their guilt and anxiety of failing a friend. Mizuki needed someone to get him through his bad days and remind him that he wasn’t to blame. Aoba needed to be there for his friend, to make sure Mizuki knew he wasn’t going to hurt him again.

          Because with ever returning memories of those blacked out years comes the surprising fact that he and Mizuki had been quite close for most of them. Mizuki had seen him at his worst; hell, he’d been right in the thick of it _with_ Aoba! Before he’d made Dry Juice the success it was, before he’d been able to open his tattoo parlor. Aoba and Mizuki had been quite the hellions in their time. And Aoba, he thinks these memories have quite the story to tell. He’d gone by Sly Blue back then, Desires name for them. Mizuki had always been Mizuki.

 

          He knows that his memories are right, because some of those stupid rumours are coming back to bite him in the rear.

“Hah?” Aoba pauses in the action of helping Mizuki out of one of the members of Dry Juices car, not quite sure he’d heard them correctly. “What?”

          It’s one of the newer members, one he doesn’t know by name. “You’re Sly Blue, right?” The poor kid sounds so excited, and all Aoba can do is stare dumbly at him, because One) this kids data is so outdated, seriously, who’s been feeding the teeny bopper stories about his past and Two) Mizuki is wobbling a bit, stuck between the door of the car and Aoba’s reaching arms. Aoba can feel his right eye starting to twitch.

          “Move outta the way, Hoshiro!” An older Rib member steps up to gently push the kid back. Two more members join them, ones he knows, and they shuffle Aoba and Mizuki out of the car, slowly, to the small lounge area of Black Needle. They settle down around their boss, clearly waiting. Mizuki starts to lowers his head to all of them, and that’s Aobas cue to leave.

          He doesn’t need to hear Mizukis heartfelt apologies to his team. He knows how the team will react, and it makes his heart ache that the proud Dry Juice leader should have to lower his head at all. If Aoba had been paying more attention to his friend and the times Mizuki had tried to explain his apprehensions to him, this all could've been avoided.

          He doesn’t sit on the newly tagged steps, simply laying his bag with a sleeping Ren in it there. Though the team had already painted over Morphines’ symbol with the familiar pink and black of the Dry Juice skull, all he can see is the blood spilled on the wall and ground. In the back of his mind, never quite leaving his thoughts, are the images of the Ribsters, eyes blank as they move like dolls.

It’s probably because he’s brooding once again over everything that’s happened, that the young punk from earlier manages to startle him with a touch to his back.

          The swift punch Aoba throws as he turns around is only avoided by the kid because he falls back, just as startled by Aobas movement as Aoba had been of his sudden touch.

          “Jeez, kid,” he sighs, finding his balance again as the boy jumps back up. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up behind someone in a dark place?”

          “It ain’t dark!” The kid snaps back petulantly. Then he seems to brighten as he realizes that Aoba, though wary, isn’t moving away. “You are, though, right? That guy the old members talk about- Sly Blue?”

          The vague twitchiness of his right eye returns with a vengeance. “And what are a bunch of Rib members doing talking about my Rhyme days, huh,” he mutters. The kid throws him a questioning glance, wide brown eyes in- _is that awe?_ “What do you want, kid. Your leader is in the other building.” _Probably drowning in a group of his followers_. The thought amuses him and he snorts. “Don’t you want to see how he’s doing?”

          “You are, I know it!” The kid, and Aoba regrets not paying attention when they said his name earlier, flushes a moment later. Aoba raises his brow. “A-and Mizuki-dono doesn’t need us younger members around while he talks to his team.”

          _Mizuki-_ dono?!

          Aoba snorts again. And when it doesn’t stop being funny, he has to hide his face and clasp a hand over his mouth because _Mizuki-dono_ would throw a fit over hearing that name. He flushes again, the pipsqueak, and looks like an angry teenager. “I-it’s not funny! The older guys have been waitin’ anxiously for him to come back!”

          “Kid-”

          “Hoshiro!” The k- _Hoshiro_ pales at his outburst and steps away from Aoba, gaze furtive and quick. “I-i mean--”

“It’s fine.” Aoba holds up a hand to stop the- _Hoshiro_ , before he speaks again. It takes a moment, but he figures if the kids been hearing about his days as Sly Blue, he’s also been hearing about what Sly- uh, he- did to his opponents who didn’t respect him. “Look, Mizuki’s probably wondering where you are; let’s get you back inside.” The blue-haired man knows for a fact that Mizuki knows the names of everyone left on his Rib team, and keeps tabs on them just in case they need his help.

That’s partly how Mizuki came to find out about the defections. Aoba sighs and winces. There _is_ such a thing as caring too much.

“I’ll wait until they’re done.” The alley is empty of everyone except the two of them, and Aoba can feel a headache coming on. Slightly panicked, he checks- but no, Desire is still quiet in his mind. It’s just a normal headache.

Caused by a teenager. He’s sure this is how Granny felt all those years ago.  

Suddenly done with arguing with a stubborn teen, Aoba grabs him by the collar, picks up his bag from the steps, and uses the momentary shock Hoshiro’s in to drag him back in to Black Needle.

          Knocking loudly, he announces, “Oi, I’m coming in,” and opens the door. As expected, the Dry Juice members are all trying to cater to their sickly boss in some way shape or form, and Mizuki is hopelessly trying to fend them off and shoo them away. “Ah, too bad kid, looks like you missed the group hug.”

          “You missed it too, Seragaki!” Shouts one, and several break into large grins, egging him on. Aoba rolls his eyes and shoves Hoshiro towards Mizuki.

“One of your members followed me outside.”

          Mizuki smiles and says, “Hoshiro! We were looking for you.” To everyone’s greater amusement, Hoshiro stammers and blushes and avoids looking Mizuki in the eye. Mizuki chuckles, his sea-foam green eyes for once clear of guilt. Those same eyes find their way to Aobas strange golden-brown, and light up. “Aoba! Where have you been hiding?”

          He smiles. “Didn’t you hear me, old man? I’m the one who brought him in,” and it’s full of sly teasing, making Mizukis smile even brighter.

          “I knew it!”

          The loud exclamation has everyone turning back to Hoshiro, who’s too busy staring wonderingly at both Aoba and Mizuki to be embarrassed. “I _knew it_!”

          Aobas quizzical glance to Mizuki reveals nothing; Mizuki looks just as confused and about twice as lost. A raucous starts in the back, and Aoba realizes that the confusion is not just limited to them- the older members are getting annoyed too, questioning the younger members in increasingly louder tones. In fact-- Aoba counts, and yep, it’s all the younger ones ganging up on Hoshiro, throwing panicked looks at either Aoba or Mizuki.

          What he can make out from the frenzied words spinning around him is that Hoshiro has almost ‘given it away’.

          _Given what away? Something I did, or that Mizuki did that he….thought we would?_ He shakes his head and sighs, making his way closer to Mizuki from across the room. He manages to catch the attention of the older members, and they settle down, quickly separating Hoshiro from the rest, protesting all the way.

          The words are said dubiously, but Mizuki smiles at him anyway. “I’ll be leaving now, Mizuki. You look like you’re in good hands. You can call me if anything happens.” He doesn’t really doubt that they won’t take care of his friend; in any case, Mizuki will be back to mothering the entire lot of them in no time. Aoba thinks he’ll stop by Koujaku’s on the way home, see if he can pull him into a bet about it and maybe catch up at the same time.

          Mizuki stands for a second, quickly grabbing Aobas shoulder. He leans in, red hair almost touching the sensitive strains of Aobas azure, and smirks. “Awww, are you implying you want to take care of me, Aoba- _kun_?”

          His eye twitches and he sucks his teeth. Mizuki knows damn well Aoba’s not called - _kun_ by anyone who knows him and lightly shoves the laughing man down onto the sofa. “Watch it old man,” he warns as he walks out, eyeing the suddenly silent younger members, the guffawing older ones almost blocking out his words, “Or I’ll have to start calling you Mizu-oji.” Mizukis chuckling too hard to respond.

          The lightness of the laughter will keep his spirits high the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I forgot to add this in the first chapter. This story takes place after the True Route of Dmmd, but instead of Aoba screwing the pooch, they talk it out. I'm also taking liberties with the timeline- if I remember correctly, most of the game happens within a month? This fic assumes that all that happened took place over several months instead. If you're looking for romance, feel free to leave pairing suggestions, though this fic won't play heavily *as of now* into any romance. This fic is slated to update every Friday *from now on*, unless something comes up.  
> Thanks for reading~!

“Well, isn’t this a lovely sight; I thought for sure I wouldn’t see you until I was old and wrinkly.”

          Aoba rolls his eyes. “You saw me just the other day.”

          Koujaku grins and steps aside to let Aoba in. In the end, Aoba had decided to wait a day to see the Beni-Shigure leader so they could chat longer. He’d honestly not seen Koujaku in a while. Waving to each other on the street hardly counts as ‘seeing’.

          But he can’t let Koujaku have the last word. Or, um, wave.

          Like his Rib team, Koujakus home is very traditional with hints of modern touches placed carefully throughout. Every time Aoba visits, he feels an intense need to revert to polite speech. The wooden floors gleam brown, yet never has he fallen walking on them. The rooms all have an open feel to them, despite being filled with drawers, decorations, and plants. Koujakus fashion sense extends to all parts of what he owns. His house, his job, his team, even Beni vouch towards that.

          Of course, Aoba is pretty sure he knows obsession when he sees it. It’s up in there air whether or not Beni the Allmate came first or the Rib team name did.

          Not that it’s a bad name, though.

          A shrill scream comes from nearby, and Koujaku waves Aoba toward the main room. “Do you want some tea, Aoba?”

          “Ah, yes, thanks.”

          He’s familiar enough with Koujakus home, and settles in on the couch, placing Ren right next to him. His longtime friend had beaten the tentativeness out of him within three visits. _‘How do you think it makes me feel, seeing you tense up every time you come over?’_ Koujaku had pouted- no matter what he said, Koujaku had definitely pouted- and sulked and teased until Aoba gave in.

          “Here.” It’s a steaming cup of green tea, and Aoba accepts it with a muttered thanks. Koujaku sets his own cup down after a short drink. “How have you been? Is Tae-san doing well?”

          “Mmm, I’m fine. No lasting damage from back then. Grannys doing well. Just this morning she was complaining about me not learning anything from the past and not locking the door yesterday when I left.” In his defense, he’d been thinking only about getting to the hospital. “And you? How’s your business?”

          “Ahaha, she’ll live forever! I’ve been doing well. The collapse of _that_ place has given me an unexpected opportunity. I’ve suddenly got three times as many people awaiting the chance to get their hair styled by my wonderful self!” Aoba pretends not to see the pointed red-eyed smirk aimed in his direction and waits. His playful air dying down, Koujaku laces his hands together. “How is he?”

          The three of them had been friends since Koujaku moved back to the Island, Mizuki and Koujaku eventually finding a common ground in Rib despite being rivals, as well as in their friendship of Aoba. The Beni-Shigure leader had visited Mizuki nearly as often as Aoba had. Aoba’s pretty sure the only reason he didn’t turn up yesterday was to give Dry Juice time with their leader. “He’s doing better.” Aoba lowers his eyes and bites his lips, guilt returning. “I spoke with his physicians before we left. They said his nightmares had stopped occurring so frequently, that he’d be tired for a long time after doing simple activities. He’s to exercise a little each day, too, to gain back the muscle he’d lost while-- unconscious.”

          They’d said a lot more than that, all of it detailed and written in a thick file. Koujaku exhales loudly. “He’ll bounce back to his old self in no time, Aoba, no need to worry.” He pauses, then continues, “Hmm, I think I’ll let his team know I’m planning to visit soon.” They both know an unannounced visit from a rival Rib team could mean anything, and though Beni-Shigure and Dry Juice are on great terms, it was still a good idea to keep all actions out in the open. “I’ll even bring a bottle of the good stuff.”

          Aoba snickers; Koujaku wouldn’t simply bring good alcohol; he’d drink it then and there with Mizuki. The older man wouldn’t push Mizuki to drink a lot, not when he was still a bit weak, but he’d do all he could to get Mizuki in a happier mood.

          That reminds him- “You haven’t heard anything from your younger team members have you?”

          “That’s rather vague, Aoba.” Koujaku frowns at him, eyes sharp. “Do you mean rumours like those that started about Morphine back then?’

          “No, it’s just. The younger kids in Dry Juice were all acting funny yesterday around me and Mizuki, and I’d wondered if someone was talking _shit_ again.” They both jump at the harsh tone of Aobas words, and Aoba flushes. “Sorry.”

More and more, Aoba was coming to realize that his acceptance of Desire, also meant an acceptance of his harsher qualities, such as an overprotectiveness of friends and family.

          Koujakus answering smirk makes Aoba draw back, wary. The man only smirks when he’s about to start some hardcore teasing, or to entice an opponent into a fight. Aoba isn’t willing to start brawling then and there in the middle of the main room so-

          _Damn it._ “Koujaku, no, whatever you’re about to say-”

          “You always were so protective of Mizuki. He _is_ older than you, you know.” The drawling sound of the sheer amount of _sass_ coming from Koujaku makes him squirm and blush. “Not to mention he’s a _Rib leader;_ he _can_ handle himself. A few words aren’t going to bring him down.”

          They both knowingly ignore the fact that words were a part of what led to Mizukis eventual fall. “You know what, I’ve got a bit of free time today. Why don’t you sit over here and tell me all about how _that_ came to be.” Koujaku pats the space right next to him mockingly, but his words are sincere.

          Aoba grimaces. “Haven’t you heard that story already?” There’s a strong chance he hasn’t, Aoba realizes after he asks. Neither he nor Mizuki talked much about the past outside of the safety of the Black Needle and each other. Really, if he thinks about it, the only ones who would know the most about it are him, Mizuki, and some of the original members of Dry Juice.

          They aren’t proud of their pasts, but Mizuki never hid his from those who asked, and Aobas just learning about all that he did as Desire. Some of it makes him flinch. He’s intentionally sent people to the hospital using Scrap, as well as having broken bones in his fights- save for The Incident, Aoba was fairly well off in his fights. He never broke anything serious.

          Aoba supposes he and Mizuki will soon find time to think about those old days, considering how much of it they spent together. It’s mainly the reason they’re friends now.

          He sighs heavily, and then blinks at Koujakus faintly smiling face. “What?”

          “There was a time,” Koujaku starts, words offhand and a little wistful in a way his eyes aren’t, “Where you would have reacted much more cutely; all red blushes and immediate denials of things I haven’t even said yet.”

          “Oi!” The words have the effect Koujaku was probably aiming for. Aoba blushes bright red and jumps up. He points one gloved hand at Koujaku, face twitching between a scowl and horrified embarrassment. “Men aren’t cute, hippo; I’ve never been cute! Take it back!”

          That faint smile evolves into a full blown leer, making Aoba leap over the couch and startling Ren from what looked like a light doze. “No, you’ve always been cute, ever since I stopped those bullies from picking on you.”

          “Hmph, you would remember that.” Waiting to see if Koujaku was going to bring up any more stupid things, Aoba eventually sits back down. They’ve come back to memories again, and while he knows Koujaku will let it drop if he’s unwilling to talk about it, a part of him thinks that Koujaku should know just how far back he and Mizuki go.

          Koujaku is his best friend. Mizuki feels...closer than that, to Aoba.

          Aoba nibbles his bottom lip as Koujaku waits in patient silence. “I’ll tell you,” he says decisively, “so make sure you’re listening.” The memories aren’t returning in chronological order, but he’s relatively sure he remembers everything from the beginning by now. It shouldn’t be too hard to put them right.

         

 

_“Sissy ass punks.” Sly spits on the groaning members of some gang or other. Thought they could take him, even after he generously gave them a way out. Their own fault they were too stupid to take the chance._

_All these damn gangs and Ribsters and whoever the hell ever they are, just popping up on the Island like they own the place. They’re seriously starting to piss him off. They go after each other, after random people, and after anyone who even looks at them funny. Enter Sly, who thinks they’re all kinda funny, and more than willing to take them on. Sly’s even caught a few loitering near his house,_ his _territory (where that Old Woman may or may not be), and had to set them straight. All of them had run crying by the time he’d been through with them, each promising they’d be back, he’d be sorry, their bosses were_ serious business _, blah blah blah._

_Sly sneers. The moment one of those cowards is able to take him in a fight is the day he’ll sit down and give any of them the time of day._

_Until then, he’s been hearing rumours about some new game that takes place in your mind; it sounds like a load of bull, and he’s eager to see what it really is. The days get boring with nothing to do. At least nothing interesting. School is too constraining, and that old woman is always on his ass about something or other. It’s just a royal pain to even bother going back there now._

_What does he need her for anyway? Those stupid pills aren’t any good now that he’s got full control, and some sketchy twins have offered him their place when he can’t go anywhere else. Not that he’d take them up unless desperate or drunk; he’s pretty sure they want to fuck him._

_Sly makes his way down the back alleys. So far all he can find out about the game is that it’s in the works by that company that's trying to take over the Island; Tomoe or Toi or Toue, some shit like that._

_“Tch” Sly grimaces. There’s nothing to do on this tiny Island, and since schools just about over for the day, even if he felt like going, there’d be no point._

_A group of three head his way, wrapped up in each other and laughing at something one of them says. They’re taking up most of the alley, and Sly doesn’t move out of the way for anyone._

_They don’t notice him as they get closer, so he squares his shoulders. He may be a kickass fighter, but that doesn’t translate to bulk. Sly is fucking short, and it’s all he can do to not get pushed around in large crowds or small areas like these._

_They don’t see him after all, and Sly has to ram one of them against the others to get by._

_“Hey!” The pushed guy shouts. Sly gives him a considering look, before snorting and moving on._

_Sly_ is _bored. Not bored enough to get into a fight right now though- besides, some punks had tried to gang up on him the other day, and while it’d ended in a draw, he was still a little sore._

_He glares at the idiot who dares to get offended when he’s the one in the wrong. The bristling teens got a mark on him- one of those Ribsters then. The other two have the same mark in different places, some sorta white tear drop. Whatever. Doesn’t look like they’re gonna follow him, so Sly keeps on walking. He hears angry mutters fading behind him but gives it no attention. Assholes thrive on attention._

_He should know._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, hopefully more interesting~! Thanks for reading! *

 

 

_Sly sees the same guys a few days later, clearly waiting around the area they’d seen him last. The alley looks no better today than it did before, still dark, dingy, and home to creeps Sly has no reason to humor._

_“You! Hey, you!” One of them calls out._

_Today he’s curious. Sly sneers but asks benevolently, “What do you want?”_

_“Ya Sly Blue, right?” Another Ribster laughs nastily. “Ah been hearing rumors about ya; some pretty boy who think he’s king of the hill.”_

_‘Pretty Boy’, huh? For the most part Slys managed to curbstomp those who used to think he was an easy target because of his long hair and thin frame. Looks like he’s gonna need to hand some uppity rejects their asses to them. Again. “What do you want?” He repeats, already losing interest, thoughts of revenge making him impatient._

_The guy deflates a little, but says just as aggressively, “My Boss wants ta meet ya. Says we could use a guy with ya rep on the team.”_

_A chance to meet some soon-to-be brought down Rib head? “Nah. I’ve got better things to do. See ya.”_

_“Why ya-! How dare ya disrespect our boss!”_

_Sly doesn’t even turn around, but flips them his favorite finger, riling them up even more. In retrospect, it’s a lame-ass decision._

_Because from then on, those three track his every move._

_Every place that Sly tells someone he’s gonna be, those Ribsters are there. His favorite haunts are suddenly filled with new faces, some bearing those stupid tear-marks. Walking downtown, going into stores, or even talking to those trashy not-twins twins (Sly has little to no fucks to give about their constant rehashing of the_ same. Damn. Thing. _He_ knows _they aren’t real twins, goddamn.) and he’ll catch one, two, or a small group of those assholes bearing down on him like he’s the last damn piece of food at the supermarket._

          _So he stops telling people._

 _And they keep showing up. Sometimes they change it up; instead of being where Sly intended to go, they_ chase _him to one place and try to drag him into some empty building that’s now covered in spray paint. The tag, an unfinished white skull and the team name._

_Coincidentally, he now knows that the Ribsters with the tear marks are calling themselves ‘Dry Juice’._

_A few times, just to switch up the game, he’ll walk right up to their base. It’s the funniest thing, because half the time the ones that aren’t chasing him, forget they’re supposed to be looking for him, and start talking to him about random things. That’s only worked a few times though, and he knows he’s not gonna be able to keep it up. They aren’t_ that _stupid._

 _In the meantime, he’s been asking around. Dry Juice doesn’t have much of a rep yet. So more than likely, they really do want Slys rep to boost their own. That, or they just wanna say they beat the guy who snubbed them. Yeah, Sly is hot shit but he’s not exactly the known best at anything- okay, breaking faces, yes, but any_ good _Ribster could do that._

 _Still. Even knowing that he’s taken to walking slowly, looking around corners and generally becoming more irritable the longer this shit goes on. Throwing off his sense of control, of freedom and its_ annoying _being cautious. Makes him think of his old,_ weak _self._

_Makes him want to be as far from that as possible. Get rid of it._

_And if he starts to act reckless, starts to get into a few more fights to get rid of that_ irritation-idea-that-he’s-weak _, so what?_

_Who’s gonna stop him?_

_The next time one of the Dry Juice members corners him, Sly smirks and doesn’t listen to whatever idiocy he’s spewing now because—_

**_“Take me to him.”_ **

**\--** _Sly can take control whenever he pleases. It’s a beautiful, chaotic power that he keeps pretty well under wrap. Sly’s not exactly the known best at anything; but what they don’t know is to his advantage._

 

_The punk with the tear-drop shaped mark on his cheek doesn’t really look all that threatening. Sure, his clothes have studs on them and would really hurt to grab a hold of in a fight, but he’s got this dopey ass expression on his face. Something about the kids’ easy smile, and clearly relaxed posture murmur that he doesn’t want to fight._

Well _, Sly allows grudgingly_ , it’s not like I expected to run into him in this hidey-hole. _Sly’s occasionally capable of thinking that not everyone is an asshole waiting to be discovered._

 _The Ribster he’d commanded to take Sly to his boss had led him across town, closer to the Dry Juice base. This ‘hidey-hole’ is nothing more than a well-known neutral zone; Ribsters and no-marks alike tended to hang out in the place when they needed a break. Sly ungenerously thinks that maybe the Dry Juice isn’t terribly dim-witted after all. To establish a base near a neutral zone is pretty good- makes people think twice about starting fights nearby. Especially since the people who run this particular bar have been known to fight back_ hard _._

_Unconsciously, Sly rubs at his rear. He’d tried to start in fight here a while back, and been tossed out on his ass. They’d banned him for a month, and while Slys pride had prevented him from going back for another two months, he had eventually. Now, he runs errands for them when he has nothing else to do. Best gopher they’ve had yet, they tell him._

_Still, he eyes the red,_ is it red? Dark red? It looks off, maybe it’s not fucking red, _haired kid warily. When he does nothing more than smile and order another drink,_ okay, not a kid then, _Sly ignores him and orders a small snack._

_Thinks about the supposed Dry Juice leader seated near him and finds him lacking._

_**Be-be-beep. Be-be-beep.**_

          The ringing from his coil snaps Aoba and Koujaku out of the memories. Aoba blinks rapidly, trying to get back to the present as he looks down.

          _Shit._

          It’s Granny, and once Aoba looks at the time, he understands why. Ever since Platinum Jails collapse, and the discovery that Toue’s body wasn’t among the fallen, Granny had installed a new rule. If Aoba was going to be out past midnight, he’d need to call or contact Granny and let her know he was alive.

          Aoba insisted she follow the rule as well, and she’d grumpily agreed. Aoba guiltily notices that she’d sent five messages in the last few hours. “Ren!” he hisses, struggling to click the right button on his coil.

          “Sorry, Aoba.” Aoba doesn’t think he sounds sorry at all, and he lets Ren know that with an exasperated glare.

          He barely manages to answer the call before an agitated, “ _Where are you”_ comes out loudly, Grannys gaze stern and lips thin on the screen.

          “I’m at Koujakus. He says hello.” Koujaku waves cheekily at him and Aoba mimes punching him, almost missing what she says next. “Ah, no, I’m not staying- no, it’s not too dark to walk home. Yes, yes, I’ll be leaving soon. Okay, bye.”

          He sighs as he hangs up and collapses against Koujakus umber pillows. Sometimes he forgets everything that’s happened. Then it slaps him in the face when he realizes just how much it’s changed his life.

          Koujaku walks around to lean against the back of the couch. Aoba smiles sheepishly at him (but Koujaku looks upside down from this angle, and it makes his sheepish smile turn impish). “You are welcome to stay the night, you know.” It’s the same offer he makes whenever he thinks that Aoba shouldn’t leave late. They both know Ribsters and teenagers run the streets at night, and while things aren’t as bad as they used to be, it was better to be safe than sorry.

No amount of street cred will protect either of them if they’re mistaken for someone else because it’s dark. Even Koujaku, recognizable as he is with his sword, has been attacked ‘cause the idiots just thought he was a random man with a large bag on his back.

          Still.

          The blue haired man lets out a long sigh, snuggles into the pillows for a few seconds more before popping off the couch and nearly whacking the other man in the face with his hair.

          “Nah, I’d better get home to Granny. Thanks, though, Koujaku.” Koujakus face falls comically and Aoba snickers. “Awww, if you really want to have a sleepover, I’ll call everyone and-”

          Koujaku freezes, and a strange expression crosses his face, almost like concern. It strikes Aoba as odd, because he _knows_ all of Koujakus expressions and this one, well, it’s _new. “Aoba._ ”

          Aoba grins and walks towards the door, pretending he can’t tell Koujakus acting weirdly. “Hmmm?”

          “Aoba, you can’t invite those guys over for a sleepover.” The sheer amount of panic in his voice nearly sets Aoba off, laughter clearly in his eyes. He’s glad Koujaku can’t see his face right now.

Something seems to occur to Koujaku then, because he backtracks _hard_. “Actually, you can invite them all. Even that snotty, bratty one. Invite them, Aoba.”

          _Oh?_ Aoba wonders at the extreme change of heart, and sneaks a look at Koujaku, who’s gone into some urgent planning mode, muttering quietly to himself. The other mans eyes are narrow and sharp, and his fists are clenched waaaay too hard for a joke. Guilt builds inside his chest and Aoba stops. “Hey, Koujaku-”

          Except he catches some of the words Koujakus muttering, things like ‘ _bratty kid’, ‘I’ll make a_ point, _damn it’_ and ‘ _show them how dare they think they can’._ What on earth?

          “Oi, hippo!” The stupid nickname catches his attention and Aoba sticks his tongue out. “I’ll see you later; don’t stay up too late with your plotting.” Aoba smiles and walks out on Koujakus flustered stuttering.

         

 

          It’s only when Aoba gets home that he remembers one of the reasons why he went over in the first place. He sends a quick message to the Beni-Shigure leader.

**_can you ask Kou and Hagima if theyve heard any weird rumors about me or Mizuki?_ **

**Yes, I’ll check with them.**

**_wanna bet that his team will be mothering him before the week is out?_ **

**** **That’s a fools bet. Get some sleep, Aoba.** **J**

**_Good night Hippo. ^( ^0^)^_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Marsh, for commenting! I appreciate it to the nth degree!! >///

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please don't be afraid to point out mistakes, or things that don't make sense. As I am an American, I don't know much about the everyday lifestyle of Japan. If there is some gross misunderstanding, or something that is far too Americanized, let me know!! As always, betas are welcome!


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